


To Buy A Grimm

by Amaradex



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaradex/pseuds/Amaradex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe is guilted into bidding on Nick at a bachelor auction, but the Grimm gets more than he bargained for.</p><p>Prompt at grimm-kink: Renard forces Nick to participate in a bachelor auction for a big charity event sponsored by the department. Desperate, Nick begs Monroe to bid on him because he just knows he's going to end up getting bid on by a dirty old lady looking to have a good time, but really, who says Monroe doesn't want to have a good time too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://grimm-kink.livejournal.com/452.html?thread=962244#t962244) prompt at [grimm-kink](grimm-kink.livejournal.com)

"Pleaaaase?" Nick's whining was grating on Monroe's nerves, though he tried to focus on the clock he was working on to avoid snapping at his friend.

"For the last time, man, not happening. I don't do crowds, especially not crowds of overly hormonal women." He intended to sound reasonable, but the growl that came out was rather more petulant and grumpy old man than he ever liked to be.

"I'd come save you if you were the one in danger of being taken home by one of those overly hormonal women," the Grimm wheedled, nearly fluttering his eyelashes in an attempt to get his way. His Blutbad friend gave him an incredulous look and then huffed impatiently.

"No," he said, deciding that maybe simple was the way to go. He turned his attention back to the clock, but after a moment, his eyebrow started twitching. He could nearly _hear_ Nick pouting, and it was driving him up the walls.

"I see how it is," the dark-haired detective finally said, sighing dramatically and trudging his way (insanely slowly, Monroe noted) towards the front door. "You'll save me from Jägerbärs, Ziegevolk and other Blutbaden, but not human women who just want to use me for their own pleasure."

Monroe winced at that, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He didn't think that Nick had noticed his developing feelings (the Grimm was thick when it came to his own relationships, having been blindsided when Juliette left him after months of trying to get past his secrecy), but the man seemed to be able to take advantage of it anyway. He couldn't stomach the thought of some faceless woman cozying up to the detective, stroking his biceps and murmuring to him in an attempt to coax him into her bed. Monroe had no doubt that commanding a bought man into bed would be strictly forbidden in the rules of the auction that Nick's boss had forced him into, but convincing wouldn't be.

"Fine," he gritted out, trying not to show why exactly he was finally giving in. The look of utter relief on the Grimm's face made Monroe's stomach do a little flutter and he tamped it down quickly, affecting his annoyed grumble again. "But you're giving me the cash to do this and I will be using your services once I've bought you. I could use some help giving this place a good spring cleaning and you owe me for this." Nick was quick to agree, slumping back onto the couch and watching Monroe work attentively, acting for all the world like he hadn't just been saved from what was apparently "the worst fate in the world".


	2. Chapter 2

"I can't believe she actually wanted to pay two grand for you," Monroe said as he stood beside Nick in the line for the winning bidders. The young Grimm seemed nearly giddy with glee, bouncing up on his toes to peek over the people in front of them.

"Captain Renard will be happy that I went for as much as I did," he said brightly, scanning the crowd. "I'm surprised he's not here, actually."

"Can you calm down a bit?" Monroe asked in frustration, shifting uncomfortably. It hadn't escaped his notice that other than the one old man who had bid on a young rook (obviously his son or possibly grandson), he was the only guy to bid on one of the "bachelors" sold at this auction. A few of the women who had lost to him in the bidding for Nick were eying him up suspiciously, and he could feel the prickling on his neck that would have signified his hackles raising if he'd had them at the moment.

"Sorry," Nick said, obviously trying not to fidget. Monroe sighed, feeling a little guilty at holding his friend's excitement against him. He just couldn't understand why the detective was so happy. He huffed with relief as the woman in front of him finished signing the form she had been filling out and stepped aside to ogle over (and giggle rather annoyingly at) the officer she had won.

"Fill this out," the woman behind the table said in a bored voice, handing over a clipboard holding the form and a pen. Monroe wrote as quickly as he could, bent nearly in half to rest the clipboard on the low table. He straightened with a low groan, passing the form back to the woman.

"I'll give you a massage as one of my tasks, if you'd like," Nick offered in a low voice. At Monroe's sceptical look, he shrugged diffidently. "Juliette and I took a couple's massage class a few years ago. I'm pretty sure I remember most of it."

"Payment?" the woman behind the table said, saving the Blutbad from having to respond to his friend. He counted out the $2,200 he had bid, wincing as he handed it over.

Nick had come to him three days ago looking rather haggard, and had slid an envelope containing $2,500 into Monroe's hands before the Blutbad had the chance to speak.

"That should be enough," the detective had said in a flat voice. "I'd set it aside to buy Juliette an engagement ring, but I guess I won't need it for that now." He hadn't seemed so much hurt as angry, but Monroe had respected the emotion enough to take the money without a word and hand over a beer. It hadn't taken Nick long to go back to normal, but the money now carried a taint in the Blutbad's mind.

With the transaction complete and a receipt stuffed into his pocket along with Nick's remaining $300, Monroe was happy to walk away from the table at a quick pace, the Grimm trailing along in his wake.

"I'll be by for my day as your obedient servant on Saturday," Nick said as they reached the doors out of the gym the auction had been held in. Monroe turned to hand him the remaining money, only to be faced with an empty space. He shrugged and tucked the bills back in his pocket. Nick could pick them up when he came by in two days.


	3. Chapter 3

Monroe had collected a substantial list of chores he wanted to get done with Nick's help by the time Saturday came, but he wasn't prepared for the detective to show up when he was barely starting on his first cup of coffee. He grumbled half-heartedly as he made his way to the front door. He was glad that he'd left his mug on the kitchen counter when he opened the door to find Nick dressed in what could only loosely be termed as "work clothing". The jean cut-offs were shorter than Monroe was accustomed to men's shorts being and the loose unbuttoned shirt didn't hide the wife-beater style tank Nick was wearing underneath it. He was just thankful that the Grimm's shoes were sensible worn runners, and he studied them rather intently while he regained his composure.

"I don't know why your coffee always smells so much better than mine," Nick said, completely oblivious to what his outfit was doing to his friend. The detective moved smoothly into the kitchen, finding himself a mug and pouring some of Monroe's home-ground Kona into it before killing it with three spoons of sugar and what seemed like a gallon of milk. The Blutbad ground his teeth for a moment.

"Because some of us don't spend five dollars on ten pounds of coffee and therefore brew near-toxic sludge that needs that much additive." He managed to keep his tone civil, but only just. Nick looked down into the pale brown liquid for a moment, and then shrugged mildly.

"I guess some of us are just uncultured," he said with just a touch of humour in his voice. Monroe took that as both apology and acceptance of his views on coffee and resumed sipping his own (appropriately unadulterated) cup.

"I'm guessing that you have a list of things you'd like to get done," Nick said after they had sat down together to a meal of buckwheat and blueberry pancakes. Monroe nodded, stowing the dishes neatly into his dishwasher then retrieving his list from where he had posted it on his fridge. He handed it over to the Grimm, who surveyed it with a growing look of displeasure.

"Maybe I ought to have let one of the women bid on me," he said in mild complaint. When Monroe gave him a dark look, he held up his hands in surrender. "I know, I know. I pressured you into this; I better show my appreciation rather than complaining about you becoming a ruthless taskmaster." The Blutbad smirked at him, taking the lead and nudging the other man towards the stairs. The first task on the list was cleaning out the attic and he intended to get it out of the way as quickly as he could.

Nick took the direction with good grace, padding up the stairs in front of Monroe. The Blutbad was treated to a view of the dark-haired detective's ass in the short jean cut-offs. They really were indecently short, he mused, just this side of being outright lewd. He only gave himself a moment to enjoy the sight before he averted his eyes and followed the other man up to the attic.

"Where in the world do we start?" Nick asked as Monroe made it up through the trap door. The Blutbad looked around him, noticing that there seemed to be much more stored here than he had remembered.

"We'll move all this down onto the main floor and then you sweep and dust up here while I sort through this and figure out what I'm keeping and what I'll get rid of," Monroe said decisively, heading to the far back corner of the attic and making a start on the pile of boxes there.


	4. Chapter 4

"You sure you weren't a Reinigen in another life?" Nick asked in annoyance as they took another load of things down the stairs. "Pack rat?" he offered when Monroe gave him a look. The Blutbad hid his smirk behind the boxes he was carrying, grumbling wordlessly in response. He'd been avoiding looking at the detective too much by burying himself in the work but he couldn't help but smell the fresh tang of the other man's sweat and it was doing funny things to his insides.

"Maybe you should clean the half of the attic we've cleared out so far," Monroe said once he had stacked his boxes with the others now cluttering his sitting and work rooms. "Then we can just move the other boxes across the room, not up and down stairs." Nick collapsed into the ladder-back chair pulled up beside the work desk, nodding mindlessly as he surveyed the very full room.

"Seriously, do you need..." he quickly counted boxes by pointing at them, "twenty boxes of Christmas stuff?" The Blutbad didn't bother double checking the other man's count because he knew that he actually had twenty-two boxes of Christmas decorations. No sense in admitting that, though.

"Some of us have holiday spirit," he said primly instead. Nick snorted loudly at that, prompting Monroe to give him a rather indignant look.

"I didn't think that having holiday spirit required four talking Santas," Nick said, pointing out the box clearly marked with that number.  Monroe was once again forced to bite his tongue - the marking on the box was out of date and he had since acquired another Santa.  Nick's eyebrow arched and he seemed to understand what the Blutbad was thinking.

"No wonder you need my help to get all of this sorted," the Grimm said sardonically.  "I'll get started on the cleaning."  Monroe just nodded gratefully, watching the other man heave himself out of the chair and head towards the stairs.  He had already brought the cleaning supplies up to the attic so it wasn't necessary for him to follow Nick.  That fact didn't get rid of his desire to do so, however, and he had to restrain himself with the same techniques he used to restrain the "Big Bad" part of his wolfish nature.

Once his breathing had slowed and he was no longer catching himself scenting the air for the salt of Nick's sweat, he bent to organize the boxes in front of him with a will.  Despite the fact that he had a box of heavy-duty garbage bags for the disposal of useless or worn-out items, he found himself sorting far more of his items into the hamper for donations.  The majority of the boxes were repacked with the same items as they had originally contained, although he was able to dispose of the box of clothing that he had packed up after splitting with Angelina and going straight.  The sight of the blood stains still got to him after so many years and he found himself reciting mantras in another bid for self-control.

"Hey, Monroe?" Nick said from behind him, breaking his focus.  The Blutbad turned to look at the Grimm and the sight that met his eyes was enough to have him hanging onto sanity by a thread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mention of four talking Santas inspired by ["Twelve days of Grimmsmas"](http://grimm-kink.livejournal.com/452.html?thread=788932#t788932) by an anonymous author.


	5. Chapter 5

Cleaning the attic had obviously been too hot for Nick, as he had shed his over-shirt and stood in front of Monroe with his hair dripping down his back and front and soaking his wife-beater. The Blutbad was grateful that the shirt was black because that meant it wasn't going see-through. Even the thought made him go cross-eyed.

It took him several long moments to realize that he had been staring at Nick without verbally acknowledging him. The Grimm appeared to be quite aware of the awkwardness of the situation, though Monroe wasn't sure whether his blush was from embarrassment, uncomfortableness or something else. _Don't think like that_ , he told himself sternly, making sure to breath through his mouth counter to the urge to smell what the detective was feeling.

"Sorry, did you need something?" he asked, trying and failing to sound impatient. Instead, his voice was strained and hoarse. The shiver that ran through Nick was clearly visible, triggering another slip in Monroe's no longer iron control.

"Yeah," the detective said, his voice nearly as hoarse as the Blutbad's, the pink of his blush traveling further up his cheeks and down his neck at the same time. Monroe watched it with fascination, not even trying to think about how to regain his balance anymore.

"I spilled the water," Nick finally managed to get out under Monroe's watchful eye. The Blutbad had to focus in order to interpret the words, but once he did, Nick's state made much more sense. Not that it wasn't a blisteringly hot day outside, but his house was always on the cool side, even up in the attic.

"Did you decide to take a bath in it?" he asked, pleased that his voice was making its way back to normal. He sounded a bit gruff, but not like he was as close to losing hold of his instincts as he was. He thanked whatever lucky stars he had that Nick wasn't wearing red - he was relatively sure that he wouldn't still be holding himself back with that sort of temptation.

"I might have slipped on the soap and fallen into the puddle," the Grimm admitted, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully. Monroe was almost too distracted by the movement to notice the discrepancy in what Nick was telling him, but the flash of concern over the other man's potential injuries was enough to clear his head the bit that he needed.

"What's up?" he asked, his eyes snapping up to the detective's and his tone getting slightly sharp. "You might be ignorant of creature ways and a little too willing to think that talking and trusting will solve everything, but you are not a klutz. You don't knock over pails of wash water and you certainly don't slip on soap and manage to coat yourself in spilled water." He knew he was right about something being off when he saw the flicker in Nick's eyes and prided himself in having remembered that while the Grimm was still new to his ancestral job, he was well versed as a cop. Monroe had seen the predatory grace Nick exhibited one too many times to truly believe the story being spun.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," the Grimm finally said, sinking down onto the arm of the couch (one of the few places not covered in boxes).

"Try me," Monroe challenges, leaning back against the door frame leading to the front hallway and crossing his arms. As he intends, the blocking of his escape path and the Blutbad's strong posture encourage Nick to listen to him, and the Grimm sighs once, loudly.


	6. Chapter 6

"I thought you didn't like the way I smelled," Nick said after several minutes of sitting in uncomfortable silence. Monroe had been about to prompt him again for an answer as to why he had covered himself in soapy water, and the Blutbad wondered if the Grimm had noticed his growing impatience. Now he was faced with an even greater puzzle.

"What?" he managed to ask, his throat suddenly tight.

"You kept sniffing the air and then avoiding me when we were moving the boxes down the stairs. I thought that maybe you were offended by the smell of my sweat and I didn't exactly have any wolfsbane handy. I figured soapy water was the next best thing."

Monroe had to sit down as the laughter bubbling in his throat made his joints shake. Nick watched him with open curiosity, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows.

"What's so funny?" the Grimm finally asked, sounding just as perturbed as he looked. His friend shook his head, holding up a hand in a wordless plea for a moment to recover his composure. With bad grace, the dark-haired detective subsided, nevertheless pinning the Blutbad with an intense stare that spoke clearly to how impatiently he was waiting.

"Completely the opposite problem," Monroe finally managed to gasp out between guffaws. Nick gave him a confused look at first but as his (admittedly very impressive) induction ability kicked in, the frown cleared into a smile.

"Really?" The Grimm finally asked, his voice still slightly disbelieving despite the hope in it. Monroe sighed a little and then nodded, thoroughly enjoying the smile he got as a reward.

"You've been down since you and Juliette broke up," the Blutbad said simply, leaning back against the table behind him. "I haven't wanted to say anything. But when you showed up today in... that," his wave encapsulated the abbreviated clothing, "and then started to sweat - well, I'm not made of rock." He could feel his hold slipping again, releasing the instincts that he knew he should control.

"You shouldn't try to be," Nick said, his voice low and husky. Monroe's eyes slipped half-way closed and he forced down a groan. "I..." The Grimm's hesitation was enough to get Monroe's attention and he opened his eyes fully again, looking at the other man. When he couldn't read what the detective was feeling from his face, the Blutbad finally scented him, releasing enough of his instincts to determine what exactly it was that he was smelling rather than just sniffing at confusing scents.

Fear, nervousness and a sprinkling of desire met the sensitive membranes inside his nose and the signals traveled quickly to his amygdala to spark a reaction. He was moving almost before he knew it, taking Nick's face gently in one hand, cradling his cheek. The shorter man didn't seem surprised at all. Instead, he turned his face into Monroe's grasp, his eyes closing in surrender and acceptance.

"Nick?" The question was all that Monroe could handle in his state. The Grimm looked up, undoubtedly aware of what the tone meant. The Blutbad knew that his eyes were likely gleaming red, warning the other man away, but it didn't seem to matter.

"Yes," Nick said simply, not bothering to clarify what he was responding to. It didn't matter to Monroe: he swooped down without further thought and claimed the Grimm's lips with a searing kiss.

 _So much for not being used for pleasure_ , Monroe thought before being swept away by his instincts and the feeling of Nick's body against his.


	7. Chapter 7

Curled up around a sleeping Nick, Monroe found himself examining the other man with all his senses. They hadn’t actually had sex, for which he was grateful – he didn’t think he would have been about to control himself if they had. As it was, their session of kissing and frottage had driven him wild enough. He peered closely at the light red crescent mark marking the back of the Grimm’s neck right where it joined his shoulder. He recognized it as a mark from one of his nails, though the sharpness of the edges suggested that his claws had been coming out just the slightest bit. He nuzzled the mark gently, feeling less remorse than he knew he ought to. Hopefully he would have better control over himself next time. Not dealing with months of repressed desire and tension would certainly help.

Nick shifted slightly, rolling onto his back to smile blearily up at the Blutbad.

“Hey,” the Grimm said softly, the sleepiness in his voice making the other man’s heart clench. Monroe bent down to give him a soft kiss, hiding his reaction as much as he could.

“Hey yourself,” he said when he pulled away. He still felt more than a little out of control, but it wasn’t so much that he was worried about wolfing out without provocation. “Feel like something to drink?” he asked, finally noticing that he was thirsty.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Nick teased, sounding more aware.

“Clearly the only way I’m going to get you into my bed,” Monroe teased back, sitting up so he could watch the Grimm. A languorous stretch was his response and reward.

“I would like a glass of water, or maybe some juice if you have any,” Nick said once Monroe was suitably discombobulated. The Blutbad had to shake himself back to reality, eying the detective up suspiciously. The younger man gave him a mischievous grin and hopped out of bed, apparently totally unconcerned about his relative lack of clothes. Monroe allowed himself to admire the view for several moments before dragging himself out of the comfort of his bed and searching for his own discarded clothing. He had less to find than Nick, despite the other man’s lack of clothing that day, and so he was able to catch up with the Grimm.

“I think I still have some pomegranate juice in the fridge,” the Blutbad said as they started to head down the stairs. “It’s unsweetened, but if you dilute it with some water –“ he trailed off as they made it to his front hall and he was confronted with the piles of boxes still waiting for him to sort through them. He’d forgotten completely about the work they’d been doing in the rush of finally being able to kiss and touch Nick.

“Oh,” the detective said from behind him, leaning forward to peer over his shoulder. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“So had I,” Monroe admitted, feeling a little giddy with the knowledge that Nick had been just as swept away as he had. “I can’t just leave it like this,” he said regretfully. The Grimm sighed in resignation, accepting the reality that a workroom full of boxes wasn’t very conducive to getting work done.

“After that water?” he asked pleadingly. Monroe laughed at that and led the other man into the kitchen, where he fetched them both glasses of ice water. Nick lingered over his as long as he could, but when Monroe finally came over and took the empty-but-for-ice glass from him, he sighed and headed in the direction of the boxes. He didn’t get more than two steps before the Blutbad reached out an arm, catching him around the waist and drawing him into an embrace.

“Look at it this way,” he whispered in Nick’s ear, kissing the shorter man lightly on his neck. “At least you’re not being used _just_ for my pleasure.”


End file.
